


this kiss (is something i can't resist)

by leetheshark



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alcohol, Carly Rae Jepsen - Freeform, Christmas, Coming Out, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, attempted cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leetheshark/pseuds/leetheshark
Summary: Christmas Eve, 2013. Richie and Eddie meet in a bar.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 63





	this kiss (is something i can't resist)

**Author's Note:**

> christmas fic christmas fic christmas fic 🎄
> 
> the songs in this are from the album _kiss_ by carly rae jepsen and the title is from the song [this kiss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vf78alvpxRM)
> 
> beta’d by Jacket

It isn’t that Richie missed his flight home on purpose.

He just… didn’t worry too much about getting to the airport on time.

And it isn’t that he doesn’t love his parents. He does, he really does—Maggie and Wentworth Tozier are just about the sweetest people on the planet. And they probably wouldn’t have a problem with Richie being gay.

Well, not probably. Richie’s 110% sure they wouldn’t have a problem with it, but he’s not ready to have that conversation yet, and the distance is killing him. He feels the chasm between them opening up, almost helpless to stop it. It isn’t Richie’s parents’ fault that they don’t know him, not really. But the not knowing stings and Richie isn’t brave enough to fix it, which is why instead of being home with his family he’s getting sloshed in a small gay bar in Chicago on Christmas Eve.

He’s wearing a red-and-green sweater with a reindeer on it that fit him five years ago and doesn’t anymore. Carly Rae Jepsen’s playing as Richie makes his way through the sparse crowd to the bar, for his fourth drink in the hour he’s been here. He feels pleasantly dizzy, head clouded in the best way, long limbs loose.

_(How do you think it goes_

_With those tiny little bows?_

_You’re the one I want_

_You’re the one I know_

_And everywhere you are_

_Is a place I want to go_

_Dancing really high_

_Dancing really slow)_

He slides up next to a guy who’s facing the other direction, talking animatedly to a young, butch woman who doesn’t seem that interested. Richie catches a few words of his clearly-drunken ramble— _listeria, antibacterial_ —and decides he isn’t that interested, either. Multicolored string lights line the bartop, and the bartender’s wearing a Santa hat.

“Dude!” Richie shouts over the music. “I love your hat!”

“Thanks!” the bartender shouts back. “You want one?”

“Fuck yeah, I want one!”

They duck under the counter, coming back after a few seconds with an identical one and plopping it onto Richie’s head. Richie pulls it down over his forehead and adjusts it to his liking.

The next song comes on, and Richie realizes they’re playing the whole album, which is _pretty sweet._

_(I went out last night_

_I’m going out tonight again_

_Anything to capture your attention_

_And she’s a real sweet girl_

_And you know I got a boy_

_Details we both forgot to mention)_

“Can I have a vodka pineapple, please?” he shouts.

He’s halfway through his drink when the guy next to him, with a dramatic, careless sweep of his arm, knocks his own drink off the table and into Richie’s lap.

“Dude!” Richie exclaims, and the guy whips around to stare at Richie with nervous, round brown eyes. “What the fuck?”

The guy’s stare goes from startled to livid in an instant. “What the fuck’s your problem?”

“You spilled your drink on me!”

“Oh,” he whispers. His eyes go somehow wider than they were before. “Oh my God, man, I’m so sorry.”

_(This kiss is something I can’t resist_

_Your lips are undeniable_

_This kiss is something I can’t risk_

_Your heart is unreliable)_

“Hey, uh, that’s okay,” Richie says, because the guy’s way more remorseful than Richie was expecting, and because he’s kind of Richie’s type (which Richie never really understood, but it is what it is). “Can I buy you a new drink?”

“Why would you do that?”

Richie tilts his head. He’s just tipsy enough to be honest with the guy. “’Cause I think you’re kind of cute?”

“What? Don’t call me cute.” And then the guy clamps his mouth shut, like he’s only just realized what Richie meant. “Oh. Yes, please.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Gin and tonic?”

Richie calls the bartender over and gets the gin and tonic on his tab. When he slides it over to the guy, he slams it like he’s trying to forget something.

“What’s your name?” Richie asks.

“Eddie.”

“Eddie Spaghetti?”

Eddie gives Richie a look that makes Richie half regret saying it and half want to say it again. “No.”

“I’m Richie—” Richie says, before being cut off by the start of the next song.

_(I threw a wish in the well, don’t ask me I’ll never tell_

_I looked at you as it fell_

_And now you’re in my way)_

“Dude!” Richie shouts, grabbing Eddie by the wrist, the touch of his skin electric. “You have to dance with me.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, looking like a deer caught in headlights, and lets Richie drag him to the dance floor.

_(I’d trade my soul for a wish_

_Pennies and dimes for a kiss_

_I wasn’t looking for this_

_But now you’re in my way)_

Richie takes Eddie’s hands, maneuvering him easily to the beat and shouting along to the lyrics— _“Your stare was holdin’! Ripped jeans, skin was showin’! Hot night, wind was blowin’! Where you think you’re goin’, baby?”_ —and Eddie follows his moves, clumsy at first, but still tempting.

Richie doesn’t normally go out looking for hook-ups. He normally goes out without any sort of plan and ends up throwing himself at the first decently attractive guy who gives him attention. Eddie’s more than decently attractive.

_(Hey, I just met you_

_And this is crazy_

_But here’s my number_

_So call me maybe)_

They dance to a few more songs, and it’s the first time tonight that Richie’s actually having a good time. Eddie’s dressed like a dentist, but he moves his hips like he knows what he’s doing, and when Richie touches his hands it feels cosmic and right.

_(From the very first time I saw your face_

_I knew I was satisfied_

_You were talking so sweet I had to taste_

_I wish I never tried)_

Singing loudly along, Richie spins Eddie and Eddie collapses, giggling, into Richie’s chest.

_(I’m breaking up with you_

_You’re breaking up on me_

_You kiss me on the phone_

_And I don’t think it reaches)_

Eddie sways close enough that Richie thinks Eddie might kiss him—which would be _more than fine_ —but instead, Eddie leans in to Richie’s ear and shouts over the music, “Can I tell you something?”

He’s still slurring his words. Richie wonders how many drinks Eddie’s had, and if he shouldn’t have bought him that new one after all.

“Yeah, man,” Richie shouts back. “Go for it.”

They’re not so much dancing, anymore, as swaying slightly to the music, Eddie’s hands loose in Richie’s.

“I wanna cheat on my wife,” Eddie yells in Richie’s ear.

_(What am I to do?_

_And how’s it gonna be?_

_‘Cause breaking us in two_

_Is breaking me in pieces)_

“What?” Dread pools in the pit of Richie’s stomach like hot wax, and he scrambles for words when he says, “You want to cheat on your wife with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I’m gay,” Eddie says, wide-eyed, like he’s never said those words before.

“Oh.” Richie blinks. _Okay._ That’s a pretty good reason, all things considered. But Richie still feels like it needs _way_ more of a conversation. “You wanna go talk on the roof?”

Eddie clings to Richie with sudden urgency. “Are you gonna kill me?”

“What?”

“Push me off the roof?”

“Dude, no. What the fuck?”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I wanna talk on the roof.”  


* * *

  
“So let me get this straight,” Richie says. Eddie’s just spilled his life story, shivering in the winter air, feet hanging off the bar’s rooftop. “You ran out on your wife’s family, on _Christmas,_ and booked it to the first gay bar you could find?”

Eddie looks down at the ground past his clasped hands. He’s approaching sober, cheeks flushed from the cold, his coat pulled tight around him. When he speaks, Richie can see his breath in the air. “Yeah.”

All Richie can say is, “Holy shit.”

“I know,” Eddie groans.

“You’re even more of a closet case than I am.”

“Hey, fuck you.”

“Well, you were kind of trying to.”

Eddie deflates. His eyes flicker over to Richie. “Still am,” he admits.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Eddie bristles. “I just told you.”

“No, why me?”

“I don’t know. I think you’re good-looking.” Eddie takes a minute to think about it. “You bought me a drink. You have nice arms.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Richie licks his lips, pulls his Santa hat lower over his ears against the cold, and sighs. “I’m really sorry, man. I’m not gonna cheat with you.”

“Yeah, that might be for the best.”

“I’m not a therapist,” Richie says. “But you should probably leave your wife.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Probably.”

Richie stares out past the parking lot below them. Christmas lights glow scattered and yellow all over the city, like the stars Richie can’t quite see in the gray-black sky. “Is she nice?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says.

Richie blinks. “You don’t _know?”_

“She’s just like my mother.”

“Is that good?”

“No.”

Richie puts a hand to Eddie’s back, rubbing over his slouched shoulders in a way that he hopes is comforting. When Eddie looks up again, there’s something tender and frightened in his eyes. “Will you kiss me?”

“Eds.”

Eddie ignores the nickname. “Just to… make sure.”

“That you’re into dudes?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m pretty sure you are.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says with a frown. “Me too. Kiss me anyway?”

“Does that still count as cheating?”

“I don’t know. Probably.”

“Yeah, probably,” Richie agrees, and then shrugs. “Fuck it.”

He takes Eddie’s face in both hands and kisses him.

Eddie’s cold lips give way to a warm, soft mouth. His cheeks go hot in Richie’s hands, and when Richie pulls away, Eddie’s looking at him like Richie’s always kind of wanted to be looked at: like he’s something incredible and not just a mediocre comedian who drinks too much and pushes away the people he loves.

If he can be Eddie’s first kiss with a guy and make it mean something, though, then that feels like enough.

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes.

“Yeah?” Richie asks, pressing his forehead into Eddie’s, Eddie’s face still in his hands.

“Yeah.”

“Still gay?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

Eddie shrugs away from Richie’s touch, then, rubbing his hands over his face. It’s a long, silent moment before he speaks again. “God,” he grumbles. “I feel like I ruined my life.”

“Can I hug you?” Richie spouts.

Eddie thinks about it, and then nods. “Yeah.”

Richie gathers Eddie in his arms, holding him tight through his puffy winter coat. Eddie may be wearing shells—his professional clothes, his bristly exterior—but beneath it all, Richie can feel that he’s just a guy who’s scared. Slowly, Eddie’s arms wrap around Richie, too, and Eddie buries his face in Richie’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay, man,” Richie says. “It’s never too late. I mean it.”

Eddie pulls away, wiping tears from his face that Richie hadn’t noticed. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Thanks, Richie.”

“No problem.” Richie’s hand goes to Eddie’s shoulder, then drops back to his lap. “You have somewhere to go tonight?”

“I can get a hotel,” Eddie says.

“You could stay with me, if you want.”

“I don’t know. I don’t really know you.”

“Dude, seriously? You asked me to kiss you and you won’t even sleep in my apartment?”

“Fair point,” Eddie admits. “I think I’ll still get a hotel, though.”

Richie can’t help but smile from that extra glimpse into Eddie’s psyche. “Do you want my number?” Eddie looks at him, and Richie can practically see the cogs turning behind Eddie’s eyes. “I don’t mean… I mean, if you ever want to talk more, or anything.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Okay. Thank you.”

Richie pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and passes it to Eddie. Eddie does the same. “Don’t drop my phone off the roof,” Eddie cautions.

“Shit, you’re no fun,” Richie says, but he scoots back a few feet just in case. He types his name and number into Eddie’s Android with cold-numbed fingers, thinks about adding a heart emoji, and then thinks better of it. He hands Eddie’s phone back, careful.

When Eddie hands Richie’s phone back, it feels heavier than Richie remembers. He thinks he knows why. He stares at the new contact, _Eddie Kaspbrak_ with a 212 area code, and has an idea.

“You want to go back inside?” Richie asks. “Maybe see if you can get some food?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” Eddie climbs carefully off the edge of the roof. “You coming?”

“I’ll be there in a minute. I just have to do something first.”

“Don’t… be too long.”

“Why? Gonna find another guy and try again?”

“No,” Eddie sighs with a small, self-deprecating smile. “Probably not. See you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll be quick. Promise.”

“Okay, good.” Eddie makes his way down the hatch leading back to the bar, leaving Richie alone. Richie watches him go, then turns back toward the city in front of him, shivering. If a guy like Eddie can consider uprooting his life at probably almost forty—If he can run out on his family and come out to himself and a complete stranger on Christmas Eve—then maybe, Richie can open up, too.

Richie’s heart’s already pounding when he unlocks his phone again, anxiety heavy in his chest. He opens his recent calls and presses the number before he can change his mind. It only rings once. “Richie!”

“Hey, Mom. Is Dad there? I gotta tell you something.”

**Author's Note:**

> [hit me up on tumblr](https://geislieb.tumblr.com/)


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